Here's a lil' guest post I did at Armand Rosamilia's blog, dealing with my story. He is in the anthology and has been featuring guest blogs by other contributors on his blog. Really good, amusing, informative stuff. Check them all out. http://armandrosamilia.com/2013/04/11/guest-blog-john-claude-smith/
Here's the Amazon link which has an abundance of "Look Inside" samples to whet your horror loving appetite: http://www.amazon.com/For-Night-Dark-ebook/dp/B00C3OGT06/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1366385015&sr=8-1
But...a bit more of a teaser to sink you into the true darkness that envelops "This Darkness." Here's Sue Chambers, fed up and had it with her guy, Andy, up on the mountain, their friend, Mitch, in the back seat (as noted in the guest blog above; read that, put it together with this, and away we go), just before all Hell breaks loose; or all dread, more so, dread... No wait, Hell does follow up...
***
Before Andy spoke, Susie sensed his anxiety bristling in the air. He sucked in deeply and the inside of the car
seemed to contract ever so slightly.
“Look. I’m sorry, baby. I really…”
But he fell silent, his thoughts clustered as one, and, as usual, he was
speaking before he’d sorted them out.
Susie remained silent, ignoring him.
“I don’t mean no harm, y’know? I
just…I don’t really know what to do with it all sometimes. Us and everything, y’know?”
She turned her head to the window, gazing deep into the black nothing
outside.
“Hey, I’m tryin’ to say somethin’ here.”
She just wanted it all to stop.
Please, just stop.
“Goddamnit!” Andy said, jamming his foot on the brakes, cutting off the
lights, the engine, everything.
“Hey,” Mitch said, that Chihuahua yelp again using his throat for
expression.
Susie kicked at the door, hand scrambling for the handle, saying “Fuck
you! Fuck you! Fuck all of this!” as she did. Frustration poured over her like an angry
waterfall. She finally got the door
open, shoving with force as she did. The
dome light splashed meager luminosity across the interior, which she was
hastily exiting. As the metal joints
stretched to the breaking point, the door creaked and popped with firecracker
intensity. She stepped out and the door
started its path back to being shut in a hurry.
But just as suddenly, she regretted being outside of the car and in this
darkness, though she also did not want to lose any more brain cells by being
within hooting distance of Heckle and Jeckle; her exasperation only magnified
the situation. As she twirled back
toward the door, everything shifted down a notch, slowing as seconds
stretched. She heard Andy say, “What the
hell is that?” while the light weaved ugly, perplexing patterns into the
crinkled folds of Mitch’s face, forming a landscape for an undiscovered planet
in the process, both of them staring out the windshield, not even caring about
her annoyance. The look in their eyes
caused her to shift her gaze from them to whatever might be in front of the
car, a seemingly impossible quest because of this darkness--
--when she felt its presence…
Reaching for the swiftly closing door, she was too late. It clicked shut and the feeble dome light was
eaten by the voracious darkness and a scream climbed the broken rungs of her
throat, yet as if sound was in cahoots with this darkness, she heard nothing.
A vacuum of terror pressed against her as she ached for the aural
confirmation she knew she had expressed, yet where was it? More so, she sensed the silence was so very
internal, though distinguishing blood currents and heart beats was beyond her
capabilities. She felt adrift, yet she
also felt compressed, as if this darkness wasn’t only pressing into her, it was
invading pores, seeking organs, essence.
She reached for the door handle, anxious to fling herself back into the
car and just deal with them, to yell at Andy to get them the hell out of there,
not caring about being made fun of or anything but being away. Real decisions would happen soon enough, but
right now she just needed the safety of noise and lights and being so far from
this darkness.
Her efforts fell flat: there was no door handle.
She let out a brittle, “Fuck,” that landed on black cotton stuffed
ears. She couldn’t see the handle, only
knew the approximate direction, yet her fingers remained unfilled. Both hands now, her lithe body stepping
forward, her hip should be banging into metal, but nothing impeded her
movement.
There was nothing there. No
car. No Andy and Mitch joking away. No light, no sound, only this darkness.
***
What the...? What in the world is going on? You gotta pick up the anthology to find out. You will find out the Truth...as well as get more fantastic fiction from a plethora of writers (Gary McMahon, Jeremy Shipp, Tonia Brown, William Meikle, Scott Nicholson, and many more) who really know and understand...the Dark.
;-)
Here's the eye-catching artwork from Ben Baldwin.
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